Your Character's Name: Raymond/Percy
I placed my gun inside her mouth and unloaded each bullet into her. Like a pro, Rabies swallowed the liquid clip and smiled. A job well done.
“That was great, DJ.”
The sweat she placed in my mouth minutes earlier dried up. Bloodstains replaced my hazel eyes. I swore I heard my teeth shatter. What did she just call me?
“Excuse me?”
“What? I had a good time.”
She sold it like a pro, trying to make believe I didn’t catch what she had just said. Her body was relaxed, both from the rundown and the ammo she threw down her throat like a shot of alcohol. I hate it when she played mind games with me.
“Who did you just call me?”
“What are you talking about Ray?”
Rabies spoke coyly as she pushed herself up onto my body.
“Or should I call you Percy,” she whispered with precision. The girl knew how to flirt, but this was no time for it.
“You… my dearest, just called me DJ.”
“When,” she quipped, unflinchingly.
“When you swallowed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her words carried an annoyance to them, so I pressed on.
“When the rust fell from my rod into your… canyon.”
“Why can’t you just call it what it is?! I sucked you off! Blowjob. Oral sex!”
“A man’s got to be proper every once and a while.”
“You’re not proper with anybody else.”
Her words rang true, but that was only because I never cared for anybody the way I cared for Rabies.
“Why did you call me DJ?”
“Raymond,” her voice croaked as she exclaimed my name. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t call you DJ, and don’t know a DJ.”
What a load of shit.
“Don’t give me that. I know where you came from. I know you know a lot of DJs, but… I also know what DJ you’re talking about.”
The shock in Rabies eyes was understandable. Rundown does a lot of things to people. It stimulates sex, eases people’s nerves, and gets people talking. In Rabies case it revealed her deepest secret to me. She kept her hour long ‘affair’ with DJ quiet for quite some time, always breezing past the details when she went over what had happened in The Rave. However, her other lover rundown, had always been the type of friend that would gossip, and gossip she did.
One night Rabies addiction spoke out against her to me, letting me know that Rabies had doubts about our relationship. She was worried she had made the wrong choice, joining the freedom forces over her old friends, the Curators. Her main issue with her decision was leaving the DJ she had fell in love with while running down a tunnel. She loved the music he played in his tinker toy named M.E.R.I.D.I.T.H., and she told me how fascinated she was at the possibility of a three way between herself, DJ, and the aforementioned music cyborg. It was all very kinky, all very Rabies, and all very blood curdling. Rabies of course doesn’t remember that night, but she remembers the DJ no doubt. I had tried to fuck him out of her mind, but I guess that just peaked her curiosity even more.
“I’m leaving,” I spoke sternly, as I hoisted myself up off the cot we soiled together.
“Why? I’m ready to go again.”
“I’m not.”
My clothes were on faster than Philip Marlowe could solve a case. My gun found it’s way into my hand as Marlowe interrogated his femme fatale. My femme fatale took notice of the gat.
“What are you going to do?”
“Save our relationship.”
Rabies’ breast tried it’s best to reach for my hand, but my hand was already out the door with the rest of my body. I stormed the castle, the basement of my father’s movie theatre. The aisles of old film brought the scent of a permanent marker with it, giving my brain a boost as I headed to do what I should have done a long time ago. I reached the Zodiac poster at the end of the hall and gently tore it off the wall, exposing a door that lead to my destiny.
Life had a way of fucking with my peace of mind every now and again. I was going to restore order to life, by ending one. My father had found the rat bastard three days ago, hiding in a sewer next to his out-of-order robo-wife. I guess he was weeping like child over M.E.R.I.D.I.T.H. Her charge had run out but the Curators wouldn’t give him the power he needed to revive her. They must have been sick of listening to the Brittany Spears album he threw inside her constantly.
DJ was sleeping inside his concrete prison. I flipped a switch outside of it, shedding light onto the haggard human pile the lay in the middle of the cell.
“Wake up dip shit.”
His eyes stayed closed as he murmured a bunch of nothings under his breath.
“Open your eyes,” I matter of factly stated. He didn’t do as he was ordered so I planted my gun into his head. His eyes flashed open for a second, and then he batted them, slowly gaining accustom to the light. He drew his eyes to my face, not knowing what to expect from me.
“How did you do it? How did you gain her attention?”
His face stayed blank, which only upset me even more. The butt of my gun lashed down onto his throat. Heaves of blood spilled from his mouth to the cold grey surface bellow.
“You bro by bind bipe.”
“What was that," I questioned in amusement.
He swallowed his saliva, but his face had me convinced he was swallowing glass.
“You broke my windpipe.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Why,” he sputtered. It was the driest I had ever heard someone speak.
“Because you are stealing attention away from me. I don’t love many things on this Earth but the things I do love stay mine.”
With that, I was sick of speechifying. I cocked my gun, aimed it at my target, and fired. He swallowed each bullet, but they didn’t go down the same way they went down for his mistress.
I placed my gun inside her mouth and unloaded each bullet into her. Like a pro,
Rabies swallowed the liquid clip and smiled. A job well done.
“That was great, DJ.”
The sweat she placed in my mouth minutes earlier dried up. Bloodstains replaced my hazel eyes. I swore I heard my teeth shatter. What did she just call me?
“Excuse me?”
“What? I had a good time.”
She sold it like a pro, trying to make believe I didn’t catch what she had just said. Her body was relaxed, both from the rundown and the ammo she threw down her throat like a shot of alcohol. I hate it when she played mind games with me.
“Who did you just call me?”
“What are you talking about Ray?”
Rabies spoke coyly as she pushed herself up onto my body.
“Or should I call you Percy,” she whispered with precision. The girl knew how to flirt, but this was no time for it.
“You… my dearest, just called me DJ.”
“When,” she quipped, unflinchingly.
“When you swallowed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her words carried an annoyance to them, so I pressed on.
“When the rust fell from my rod into your… canyon.”
“Why can’t you just call it what it is?! I sucked you off! Blowjob. Oral sex!”
“A man’s got to be proper every once and a while.”
“You’re not proper with anybody else.”
Her words rang true, but that was only because I never cared for anybody the way I cared for Rabies.
“Why did you call me DJ?”
“Raymond,” her voice croaked as she exclaimed my name. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t call you DJ, and don’t know a DJ.”
What a load of shit.
“Don’t give me that. I know where you came from. I know you know a lot of DJs, but… I also know what DJ you’re talking about.”
The shock in Rabies eyes was understandable. Rundown does a lot of things to people. It stimulates sex, eases people’s nerves, and gets people talking. In Rabies case it revealed her deepest secret to me. She kept her hour long ‘affair’ with DJ quiet for quite some time, always breezing past the details when she went over what had happened in The Rave. However, her other lover rundown, had always been the type of friend that would gossip, and gossip she did.
One night Rabies addiction spoke out against her to me, letting me know that Rabies had doubts about our relationship. She was worried she had made the wrong choice, joining the freedom forces over her old friends, the Curators. Her main issue with her decision was leaving the DJ she had fell in love with while running down a tunnel. She loved the music he played in his tinker toy named M.E.R.I.D.I.T.H., and she told me how fascinated she was at the possibility of a three way between herself, DJ, and the aforementioned music cyborg. It was all very kinky, all very Rabies, and all very blood curdling. Rabies of course doesn’t remember that night, but she remembers the DJ no doubt. I had tried to fuck him out of her mind, but I guess that just peaked her curiosity even more.
“I’m leaving,” I spoke sternly, as I hoisted myself up off the cot we soiled together.
“Why? I’m ready to go again.”
“I’m not.”
My clothes were on faster than Philip Marlowe could solve a case. My gun found it’s way into my hand as Marlowe interrogated his femme fatale. My femme fatale took notice of the gat.
“What are you going to do?”
“Save our relationship.”
Rabies’ breast tried it’s best to reach for my hand, but my hand was already out the door with the rest of my body. I stormed the castle, the basement of my father’s movie theatre. The aisles of old film brought the scent of a permanent marker with it, giving my brain a boost as I headed to do what I should have done a long time ago. I reached the Zodiac poster at the end of the hall and gently tore it off the wall, exposing a door that lead to my destiny.
Life had a way of fucking with my peace of mind every now and again. I was going to restore order to life, by ending one. My father had found the rat bastard three days ago, hiding in a sewer next to his out-of-order robo-wife. I guess he was weeping like child over M.E.R.I.D.I.T.H. Her charge had run out but the Curators wouldn’t give him the power he needed to revive her. They must have been sick of listening to the Brittany Spears album he threw inside her constantly.
DJ was sleeping inside his concrete prison. I flipped a switch outside of it, shedding light onto the haggard human pile the lay in the middle of the cell.
“Wake up dip shit.”
His eyes stayed closed as he murmured a bunch of nothings under his breath.
“Open your eyes,” I matter of factly stated. He didn’t do as he was ordered so I planted my gun into his head. His eyes flashed open for a second, and then he batted them, slowly gaining accustom to the light. He drew his eyes to my face, not knowing what to expect from me.
“How did you do it? How did you gain her attention?”
His face stayed blank, which only upset me even more. The butt of my gun lashed down onto his throat. Heaves of blood spilled from his mouth to the cold grey surface bellow.
“You bro by bind bipe.”
“What was that," I questioned in amusement.
He swallowed his saliva, but his face had me convinced he was swallowing glass.
“You broke my windpipe.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Why,” he sputtered. It was the driest I had ever heard someone speak.
“Because you are stealing attention away from me. I don’t love many things on this Earth but the things I do love stay mine.”
With that, I was sick of speechifying. I cocked my gun, aimed it at my target, and fired. He swallowed each bullet, but they didn’t go down the same way they went down for his mistress.